


haikyuu one-shots

by legionis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Other, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Somnophilia, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Yagami Yato Nicknames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legionis/pseuds/legionis
Summary: a collection of haikyuu one-shots. depending on what i throw in here, there may a little bit of everything; angst, smut, fluff, etc.please check the notes at the beginning of each chapter! there will be some important information, such as any nsfw warnings as well as the pronouns and gender of the reader.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Haiba Lev/Reader, Kunimi Akira/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Kudos: 38





	1. midnight ;; kuroo t.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuroo is one impatient motherfucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you understand the reference i made, no you do not.
> 
>  **reader's gender/pronouns:** unspecified.
> 
>  **potential warnings:** semi-public sex (right outside your house).

His eyes were on you all night. You could feel him staring at you from across the room, literally. His piercing gaze of gold dug into the back of your neck like a set of claws. It kept you on edge, the hairs on your nape standing constant, the alarm in your subconscious always ready to ring.

Occasionally, you would find yourself looking back at your one-man audience. You couldn't help it, the feeling of being watched felt too much to bear. As much as you tried to forget about his watchful eyes so you could enjoy the night with his old classmates, you really couldn't.

When you did look back at him, his iconic smirk would stretch across his face, and it was all you could get of his expression before you had to force yourself to look away.

Only when the two of you had finally gotten home had your mind let that alarm ring. The moment had finally come, only you had no time to let out your swan song before it did.

The two of you had approached the front door to your lovely home. The porch light above the door was the only source of light that illuminated the world around you, except for the full moon accompanied by the light sprinkle of stars. As you removed your set of keys from your pocket and picked through them until you could unearth your house key, you heard the man behind you say his first word since the car ride; "Chibi-chan?"

Kuroo let you turn yourself until his right hand could grab your shoulder, then did he move you on his own. A second was all it took for him to slam you dead-center against your front door, using just enough strength to keep you pinned to the wooden surface, but not enough for the force of contact to hurt. The keys in your hand dropped upon your impact with the door. Six-foot-five made a definite beast out of him, and now, with inches between the two of you, you realized just how tall he was. Here, he towered over you without even trying; he was the only thing you could see, only he put genuine effort into making that happen.

He kept himself composed throughout the day. From the early afternoon, when he watched you strip to barely anything to get ready for today, to the strike of midnight when he watched you laugh and glow under the lights of a room filled with his old teammates and friends, Tetsurou Kuroo controlled himself, kept himself on a leash. Knowing that you looked forward to meeting his folks from high school, he didn't want to get in the way and ruin it for you. Having left the get-together, he could barely contain himself for long enough to get through the front door.

Kuroo had already gotten to work on your neck. Dissatisfied that the marks he left prior were already fading, he didn't hesitate to create new ones. A large hand gripped the underside of your thigh, lifting your leg up against his side. Your only objective was to understand what he wanted; the first of your two ankles around his waist. Knowing that you understood, he let you take the leap before he pulled your other ankle to join the first, locking your feet behind his back.

All you could do now was wait for a new objective. Using your hands now would be pointless. Knowing Kuroo, he would hold your wrists against the door behind you if you moved even a finger in his sight. All you could do was stare forward at the expanse of driveway and road before you, take in the mildly uninteresting asphalt and concrete since it was all you could look at now. The only other noise was a lone cricket that chirped somewhere in the silent night, aside for the sounds of Kuroo's mouth leaving bruises and bite marks across your throat. The night would have been rather serene if he didn't let himself go right here and now-- in fact, if Kuroo hadn't been pressed against your own body, you might have even been a little chilly.

Your body jerked when he bit down exceptionally hard on the tender spot just under your ear. It yolked you back into the real world, forced a crooked yelp from your throat. Your legs tightened around his body, Kuroo's reaction being a sharp but silent groan when your sex unconsciously pressed against his.

"Tetsu, please-"

Tetsurou cut you off before you could say much. "Please what, _chiiiiiiiiibi-chan?"_ He stopped his every movement, no longer adding to the collection of fresh hickeys and bite marks scattered across one side of your neck. His halt summoned a moment of dead, silent air, as if this was his world, his night, and every aspect of it was just one part to the massive puzzle that laid out in his hands.

You pursed your lips together. Speech felt like something you were incapable of now, a skill you didn't realize that you forgot, as if Tetsurou were that of a siren, a spider who spun a web that you walked right into. Your balance wasn't yours anymore, your body sandwiched between Kuroo's and the front door, so why would your ability to talk also be yours?

Kuroo's hands left your thighs, trusting you, his own torso, and the door to balance you as he undid the button and zipper on his jeans, pulling them just enough for his bulge to escape his pants, though not his boxers just yet. He exhaled against your skin, a breath you could actually hear, once he was free from that tight denim prison, then he got to work on your bottoms, pulling them down as far as they could go without your legs unraveling from around his torso. His dominant hand slid between your jeans and underwear, toying with your sex in a way he knew would make you arch against the door.

Just as you guessed, Tetsurou scooped your wrists up and held them over your head when you tried to touch him, his grip easy on your skin. He only needed one hand to immobilize both of yours, forever thankful that he could still torment you with his other.

"Please, just," you stopped yourself short so you could find your words. That, or you were embarrassed from being under his feral gaze for far too long, embarrassed from being minutes from fucked right on your porch for all of your neighbors to see.

"Just _what?_ " Tetsurou pulled away from the gap between your neck and shoulder. He stopped his minstrations on your sex with his dominant hand, making your body unconsciously rut against his hand to regain the lost friction. The eye contact, as intense as it was, held a hint of something else among the hunger. As much as he could hardly bear to deny his lust, you both knew he would stop the second he sensed that something was wrong. If you didn't say something soon, he would surely stop everything. Of course, he'd find a way to stop himself if you told him to, no matter how each fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to hear you scream for him.

He'd only hurt you if you asked him to.

"We," you took in a deep breath before you started up again, Tetsurou raised a single brow, "we can continue, just-"

He stopped you, _again,_ this time with a snap of his hips against yours. The bulge in his boxers rut against your sex a single tantalizing, taunting time. The pleasure, though minimal, felt as ethereal as the moonlight that peered down on you. A touch of heaven on your sinful bodies.

"Am I too much for you, shortcake?" He asked. He spoke with a mocking tone as he leaned back into your neck. Against the skin of your throat, you could feel that shit-eating smirk he always has grow across his face as he licked his way from your collarbone to your jaw.

He knew just what a tease he was. What a tantalizing motherfucker.

As to give you just a little bit of mercy _(or maybe so he can have both of his hands),_ he let go of your wrists, which immediately laid claim on his back, gripping handfuls of his coat. No longer holding your arms up, he used both of his hands to free his cock from the restraints of his briefs with an inaudible huff. Doing so made your legs slip a tad bit from his waist as his wrists nudged your calves out of the way enough to get the job done. Though you barely lost your balance, considering how Tetsurou had your body pinned either way, he still hooked his hands under your knees and pushed your legs up until you were basically folded against your own front door. Your ankles may as well be on his shoulders. To make it even worse, Kuroo also took another step closer, deleting the last of the space between the two of you.

"Can't wait any longer." He said. He didn't even have to look at you for you to take note of just how impatient he was. He let go of one of your legs, leaving you to keep it held up yourself while he reached down to tug down your underwear as best as he could. When he decided that was good enough, he didn't even give you a warning as he buried his cock inside you. One of your hands flew to your face to at least try and hide the squeal that left your lips, the other held onto his shoulder for dear life.

As unbearably unfocused your vision was, you tried to peer behind this titan of a man to see if there was anyone who heard your cries. All you could think of-- aside for Kuroo reaching the deepest parts of you --was what would happen if a neighbor or two witnessed such an act. You were literally right against the front door to your home, and the fact that neither of you could wait for just a few seconds to get inside only made it worse.

However, what a thrill this was. Both a curse and a blessing, it felt like, and you hated to admit that you dreaded _and_ fantasized the idea of being caught in the act on a night like this.

Since you could never voice the excitement you felt because the embarrassment overshadowed it within your vocal cords, Kuroo did it for you; "You couldn't wait either, could you? You're so fucking tight right here. Might have to fuck you more like this." Shameless, indeed, was Tetsurou Kuroo as he spoke through his panted breaths. His fingers just barely dug into the flesh of your legs, blurring the line between gentle and rough as he tried his damnedest to keep himself still. At least he let you get used to the stretch, even if he couldn't bear to get you through the door.

Meanwhile, your mind was still in a world of conflict. It was like a little demon and a little angel appeared on either shoulder, each tiny entity shouting at you to get you to trust their judgement. Part of you basked in the glory of the thrill, that half so eager and reckless, not an ounce of care in the world as the adrenaline ran through your blood. The other half of you loathed the idea of being found in such a way, so ungodly scared of what other people would think of you and Kuroo if they made the mistake of looking your way.

Before Tetsurou could start moving, you decided to take the time to voice your decision. Maybe another day, you would listen to the devil. "Please, let's go inside fir- _haah!"_ Thrice today did he cut you off, jerking his hips against yours to slam the tip of his cock right against the most sensitive spot inside of you.

"Oh, but chibi-chan," he purred, "I am inside."


	2. play pretend ;; haiba l.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and lev found a way to get a free meal at a new and expensive restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i head-canon that lev would call his love interest his _tiger_ so they could be the tiger to his lion. i do not accept criticism.
> 
>  **reader's gender/pronouns:** unspecified.
> 
>  **potential warnings:** none. it's just very short and cute.

"Are you... sure this will work?" Lev asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied, "now fix your tie before I do it myself."

Lev stopped right in front of the double-doors, looking down at you. A childish grin spread across his face as he let out a small, nervous laugh. "Reach for it."

He yelped as you yanked him down to your height by the dark green tie he wore, somehow managing to look more anxious than he already was as he could only stare down at you as you straightened his tie. He didn't dare to move, thanking the stars above that no one had to enter or leave the restaurant while the both of you barricaded the doors.

One evaluation and double-take later, you dubbed Lev fit to enter the establishment and pulled open the doors. He fiddled with his tie, not enough to demolish your hard work but almost as if to figure out how you did it, investigating it as if it were a foreign object in his hands.

The second he heard the hostess' voice, Lev jumped like a startled cat and stiffened. He was trying his best not to look nervous, but the comedically large beads of sweat that were starting to dot his forehead did little to hide the fact that his moral dilemma was consuming him.

Knowing that he would crack under the pressure, you took the lead, explaining to the woman that you were under the Haiba reservation. If the tiny hostess who led you to your table didn't look so intimidated by Lev's towering height, she probably would have suspected the worst from how anxious he looked.

This specific restaurant was the talk of the town, its grand opening barely a week prior. Booking reservations was hard enough, but the cost of meals was an opponent all in its own. It was an extravagant establishment with an unwritten formal dress code and, somehow, four-to-five-star reviews galore.

When Lev told you that he miraculously booked a reservation to such a place, he failed to realize just how expensive simply eating there would be. With plenty of time to plan ahead, the two of you devised a plan to get a free meal-- or at least try to. A discount was at least what you, and your wallet, were hoping for.

As you swept your gaze upon the large dining area, you had no idea how in the hell your dork of a boyfriend managed to make a reservation in such a crowded restaurant. A few loud parties were scattered throughout the room, a man barely escaping the blind spot of a waitress with a tray full of empty wine glasses on one arm.

Now at your seat with your diabolical plan being the only thing that rang in your head alongside the ambience of the restaurant, all you had to do was trust Lev and play pretend.

After a dangerously expensive meal _(you didn't even try to look at the prices on the menu),_ you tapped your fingers on the table in the basic, swift order from index finger to pinkie, twice. Only when you did this a third time did Lev realize what you were doing. The man across the table looked down at his lap, fumbling with his hands where you couldn't see them.

Knocking a clumsy knee against the table, the lanky man stood up from his seat and dropped to one knee, holding the ring he borrowed from Alisa up for you to see, such a tiny object in his massive hands. "Marry me!- will you?" He tripped over his words.

"Yes!" You announced your answer, making sure that you were loud enough. Several tables nearby noticed and started clapping for what they thought was a new married couple, a few whistles even called from various spots in the restaurant. You let Lev's clammy hands envelop yours as he put the ring on your dominant hand, and just to play it safe, you let a few false tears fall as you admired the ring, watching the light show the diamonds gave off as they reflected the fluorescents of the room. Lev was still obviously scared that the plan wouldn't work, but his anxiousness only added to the effect to make it a more believable proposal.

Only mere minutes later, your waiter returned with a complimentary dessert and a congratulation to the newly engaged couple. Your plan was a complete success when he also told you and Lev that your meals were free, especially since you were the first couple to have a proposal at the brand-new restaurant.

After an eternity, you had escaped the divine labyrinth with a full stomach and a dessert to-go, hand-in-hand with your fake fiance. You couldn't help but let your humor get the best of you on the walk to your car. "They fucking bought that!" You cackled. Whatever guilt you felt for such a terrible plan was overshadowed by the exquisite feast and the priceless expressions Lev held.

Speaking of Lev's expressions, you looked up after your fit of laughter to find that he, for once, was completely silent. His lips were curved up and molded into a small yet goofy smile.

His silence couldn't help but make you question him. "What's wrong?" He blinked, shifting his gaze from dead ahead, down to your place as you walked beside him. You could feel his giant fingers shifting to trace the ring that you still wore.

"I hope I _really_ get to marry you one day, tiger."


	3. model ;; haiba l.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dating a model is one thing. being said model's photographer is another thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty short because i lack inspiration. also, dear lord ferid bathory, lev as a model in the time-skip is so powerful.
> 
>  **reader's gender/pronouns:** unspecified.
> 
>  **potential warnings:** mentions of public sex (modeling agency/workplace), ripping open clothes.

"Please, tiger? Just one more photo, and _then_ we can wrap it up!" You didn't bother looking up from the screen of your camera, knowing that Lev's face held the cheeky grin that may as well have belonged to a child, an immature expression that, when exposed to the right person, revealed either innocence or mischief.

"That's what you said about the last one." You said quietly, half to yourself; a part of you knew how he would respond to this comment.

"I mean it this time!" His tone feigned offense, though he wasn't really affected by your words.

He was sitting backwards in a chair with his arms crossed over the backboard with his chin resting on his wrist, facing you and the camera. With his hair slicked back and an enamel-shade backdrop to contrast the black-on-black suit of your model, this was a photoshoot that was born to be wild. Of course, Lev had no problem with a little bit of seduction-- so long as you allowed it.

Lev made it well known that he was taken and insisted that any suggestive shoots required your permission, announcing his love-life throughout the establishment as if it were a genuine emergency. The agency, not only relatively laid-back but also unwilling to lose their greatest star over such a demand, reluctantly agreed. They even let you continue your work as the main photographer, so long as the two of you kept your interactions civil in the workplace.

Though not completely common, Lev would break the one rule placed upon your relationship at work. About once every full- and half-moon, he would drag you into the dressing room or the closest empty room after getting frisky from letting his mind wander on the set. How the two of you always managed to get away with this _(though sometimes, by just barely),_ neither of you had a clue. All your co-workers saw was a compliant model and his photographer with the occasional limp.

After adjusting your watch-- cell phones weren't allowed during photoshoots, deemed distractions to the set --you only took a simple glance down to remind yourself that it was somewhere past midnight, well beyond the hours of any staff at the agency. By now, the only two that remained were you and your canvas.

As time went on, photo after photo, the scene started getting more and more intense, the growing sexual tension adding figurative shades of deep red to the monochromatic shoot. Like a horror game where each image grew to be more horrifying than the last, a minimal change that would easily be overlooked by anyone who didn't offer a second glance, only that fear was replaced with something else, something that you both were aware of but didn't bother to address. Something that would probably be mistaken for a natural element in this photoshoot.

 _Click._ Another photo taken. This shot still kept your massive model straddling the chair. One hand was draped over the back, the other buried in his silver locks, messing up its tamed style in just the right way, his work thankfully not enough to ruin it _(the hair stylist already clocked out, damn it)._ The very tip of his tongue was stuck out to seem like he were licking his lips as he had his picture taken, but you hadn't noticed that little detail until after you pressed the button to capture the moment forever. Almost as if he did that just for you, an inside joke between the two of you that was meant to be suggestive rather than comedic.

Your left hand dropped from the camera to give him a thumbs-up, letting him know that he was okay to shift to a different pose. He stood up, for once not magically tripping over the chair, and he lifted the seat up with a single hand. Effortless, like a feather in his grasp, not an ounce of struggle. Being a former high school athlete did him justice, or maybe it was just the natural, untrained muscle of a titan. It felt like an eternity in the mere seconds that it took for Lev to turn the chair around to face you as it normally would.

As he sat down in the chair once more, you watched, waiting for him to become one with his inner statue so you could actually take a decent picture.

"What now?" You asked. You wondered if he would take this pose seriously or not. He had a reputation of immaturity on the set. Between shoots, he would often make weird faces or stupid jokes, so every moment after a photo was a harmless game of Russian roulette.

Just like how he raised the chair, it took little to nothing for him to use both hands and rip his ebony button-up wide open. The fabric didn't tear, thank god, but buttons flew in every direction as tiny projectiles. Recovering from a flinch when a stray button was launched your way, your eyes returned to your model. Leaning back in his seat, arms now resting on the back of the chair. His long legs were spread just enough to emphasize the natural bulge in his dress pants. Now with his entire torso on full display, this model may as well have been the inspiration towards the creation of a Greek god. A hungry lion was poised before you, with an even hungrier look in his eye.

"How about I give you a few exclusive photos for yourself, tiger?" As immature as he may sometimes be on the set, this question was no jest.


	4. dream ;; kunimi a.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waking up kunimi in just the way that he dreams about-- literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the violent brain rot that this idea gave me. it hurt. a lot.
> 
>  **reader's gender/pronouns:** unspecified.
> 
>  **potential warnings:** somnophilia.

You had woken up in the middle of the night. You dreaded the idea of opening your eyes to notice the digital clock on your nightstand that displayed some ungodly hour of the morning, and yet you did. Mentally groaning, not actually doing it to make sure that you wouldn't wake Akira, you jerked the blanket up over your eyes. If you couldn't see the time, the time didn't exist, it wasn't 3:26am if you didn't have solid proof that it was.

Just as you were half-asleep, just as you were starting to feel yourself drift into the world of slumber, a sharp jolt behind you made your eyes snap open. If he moved any harder, he might have shook the entire bed. You remembered it was Kunimi-- who else would be in bed with you, --but what in the world made him jump like that? Peering over your shoulder, you cracked your eyes open into tiny slits, just enough to look back at him.

At the other side of the bed, Kunimi had his back turned to you. His body twitched, little flinches, a barely audible noise from the back of his throat. You smiled softly; he's dreaming.

Almost every night, you could wake up to find Akira dreaming. His eyes may move under their lids, if they weren't squeezed impossibly shut. His fingers may twitch sometimes even clawing at whatever was within reach. His lips may purse; if you're lucky, you might be able to hear him say a few words in his sleep. His entire body may even jump like a startled stray cat. Whatever he was experiencing in his dreams, you would never be able to tell, but they must be intense if they make him have such physical reactions.

Tonight's dream had to be one of the worst he's had yet. His reactions were heavier than they usually would be.

He jumped again. Not as bad as the previous one, but enough to make you worry that something in his dream was hurting him or making him afraid.

You rolled over to face him, scuttling a hand from under the covers up to his back. A possible red flag: his back was tense, as if he were in pain. To double-check, you slid your palm up his spine and felt his back begin to arch away from your touch. A gentle sigh fled your nostrils. His reaction only made you worry more about what he was dreaming of, what kind of monster could be hurting him in the fictional world his mind cursed upon him.

You sat up and scooted closer. "'Kira... 'Kira." You muttered to him as you grasped one hand on his shoulder in the attempt to, softly, shake him awake. You wanted to at least be gentle if you were going to wake him up.

... No reaction. His body continued to have its little tremors from a feeling you couldn't identify.

"Akira!" You whisper-shouted as you shook him harder.

Towering over his sleeping form, you peered down at his face. His eyes were tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed. He was caked in sweat, his breath leaving from his parted lips with short, quiet pants. On his pillow, which he clutched with the arm he had under his head, was a small wet spot where his drool seeped into the pillowcase.

Oh. _Oh, you knew that face from somewhere._

Now you were starting to think about it. All of his reactions, all of his dreams-- it all fit together like one big puzzle. Just to be absolutely sure with your hypothesis, you reached around his torso to the front of his sweatpants. Off the bat, you could feel incredibly hard he was, and his leg twitched from the interaction, he just about kicked you in his sleep!

Now you had the final piece to your puzzle. You snickered as Akira whimpered, still under the sandman's influence. He was having a wet dream!

Were _all_ of his dreams like this? Looking back on the times when he would wake up from each dream with a sour expression, only to disappear for a short while, it made so much sense. How were you this blind? How did it take you so long to realize that the nightmares you thought he was having were actually sex dreams?

Digging your hand against his sweatpants and palming his erection made him even more responsive, it seemed. Akira's hips unconsciously thrust forward, his body was so eager for the touch his mind created for him. He turned his head to hide the southern side of his face against the pillow, whining through pursed lips.

Kunimi being a heavy sleeper was another plus, making it easy for you to turn him onto his back without him waking up in the slightest. His hard cock was at full mast, a mountain summit of dark gray fabric before you. You sat between his spread legs with your hands on the waistband of his sweats and your eyes on his face, remaining cautious while you pulled them down. Now free from the fabric prison _(well, whaddya know, he's gone commando!),_ you marked that as a checkpoint and took a second to make sure that he was still asleep; nope, he's still out like a light.

As you leaned forward to press feather-light kisses to his tip, you continued the one-sided eye contact, watching closely for any sign of his wake while you began to lap up the pre-cum that seeped out. He was twitching from even the softest touches, you had to keep one hand wrapped around his cock to keep it still. Akira didn't seem to be waking up anytime soon, but his head had turned back to the side, his breathing catching in his throat.

You kept your eyes on him as you leaned down to lick your way up the base of his cock to the tip. He shuddered as your tongue passed over a prominent vein on the underside. He whined, a sound that was rather high-pitched for Kunimi to make. If you weren't trying to get your sleeping boyfriend off, you would have been cackling like a witch right now, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he is this deep of a sleeper. You stifled a chuckle as you flicked your wrist, stroking him at a turtle's pace.

You took the liberty to lap at the slit of his cock before you opened your mouth and welcomed the first inch into your mouth, a little warning to his unconscious self before he would really start to feel it. Sure enough, his body reveled the upgrade, and the first sign of this was the sharper breaths he took in. He tensed up as your mouth engulfed more and more of him before he relaxed when you stopped to simply suck on what was currently in your mouth. The once puny grasp he held on the pillow under his head had turned into more of an iron grip. The work of your tongue as it swished across his tip made him squirm even more. His whimpers were starting to turn into full-fledged moans, though soft and quiet.

He said your name, a mumble in such a low tone that it should be considered illegal for him to speak while he's tired, even if you could barely hear him. "... _fuck,"_ you heard him speak again.

When you took your eyes off of him, you had no idea. Not bothering to stop the swipes of your tongue, you glanced back up at Akira's face. Still dead fucking asleep.

Kunimi sleep-talking would only happen once every blue moon, and it seemed to be even more rare when he would have these dreams. Sure, he would make various noises and maybe even mutter some gibberish under his breath, but complete, coherent words were a gift from the heavens that must be treasured. And treasure them, you did. His tired voice was dangerous.

Before taking the plunge, you caught one last breath in through your nose, slowly but surely sliding more and more of his cock in. Each inch into your mouth raised the volume of his cries. His brown eyebrows, appearing black in the darkness of the room, were knit together, his mouth gaped to let out all sorts of colorful sounds, face that of pure ecstasy.

You didn't just stop when you swallowed him whole. Lifting your head up only to deepthroat him again, you didn't stop your tongue from swirling around the sides of his cock either. At this point, Akira couldn't keep still, even in his sleep. Moans fled from his mouth left and right, saliva seeping from the side of his mouth to join the rest of his drool against his pillow. His back was starting to arch off the mattress, and next to your legs, his own toes were beginning to curl.

As you were starting to bob your head faster, a hand went up to your head, fingers digging into your scalp. Peeking at him through your eyelashes made you realize that only now was he actually starting to wake. His eyes were just barely open now, lips pursed in the failed attempt to muffle his sounds. The arm that was under his pillow was now clutching the top half of it, while his other hand was the one that was buried in your hair.

When he was finally able to muster up the self-control to complete the one-sided eye contact you've been holding, he was staring down at you with several emotions clouding his gaze; tiredness, lust, disbelief too. It only took a few moments for you to gather so much information from a single look, and thank god, because his head went back against his pillow, surely making his unruly bed-head even worse.

 _"You... fuh-huh..."_ His mind, warped from both sleepiness and pleasure, could barely construct a simple sentence.

Akira's voice picked up by a quarter of an octave, the fingers that tangled in your hair curling and clutching a few locks. He didn't move your head for the most part, though, his actions mere anchors to try and keep at least ten percent of himself composed enough to watch out for you. He was going to cum soon, sooner than he wanted to, and you knew it.

Which is exactly why you reached your free hand up to massage his balls. That little ounce of pleasure was enough to push him over the edge in mere moments.

 _"Fuuuh... cummi- cu- hah!"_ He couldn't even finish his words before they all melted together into nothing but cries and moans and overall, incoherence. He spasmed beneath you as he reached the peak he couldn't cross in his sleep, absolutely convulsing as the first strings of white shot down your throat. He moved as if his mind couldn't decide if he could handle the pleasure or not, an illusionary tug-of-war to decide whether he should pull out of your mouth or push himself deeper down your throat. Before his eyes could completely close, you could see nothing but whites, his eyes having rolled to the back of his head.

After at least a minute, Kunimi eventually started to calm down from such a high. As his muscles were relaxing for the final time, you took the liberty to swallow his fluids and lick him clean, which made him squirm once again, quietly sobbing from the slight overstimulation.

As you let him settle down a second time, you said, "I'll get you a towel," while you crawled to the nearest edge of the bed, careful not to trip over your boyfriend's legs in the process.

He didn't even watch you go. He couldn't, really. All Akira could do was lie on the mattress and blindly stare up at the ceiling through his cloudy vision as he convinced himself to steady his breathing, all while he listened to the distant sink in the bathroom down the hall from your shared bedroom.

God, he was still so tired, on the verge of sleep right after such a violent orgasm. Even after that, as he was still trying to catch his breath, a part of him felt at peace, like he went to bed feeling odd and unlike himself, but woke up as free as a bird. His lips curved up into a small, content smile as he drifted off into sleep right then and there, too exhausted to wait for your return with the warm towel you promised.

The best part was-- he had just dreamed of waking up in that exact way, fucking that sweet mouth of yours, though his dream certainly meant nothing compared to the real thing.


	5. stylus ;; akaashi k.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keiji needs a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask literally everyone i know, this idea gave me such violent brain rot, you have no idea.
> 
>  **reader's gender/pronouns:** unspecified.
> 
>  **potential warnings:** supporting keiji under the desk, begging, oral cock-warming(?), overstimulation.

"No thanks, darling." Keiji said, a few moments of silence from his unbroken concentration, not even looking away from his tablet.

That was the third snack he denied today. It has been this endless cycle for days, almost an entire week. Keiji had bitten off more than he could chew, and now he was sitting in his stupid study and editing dozens of stupid pages on his stupid tablet. A couple meals were skipped, sleep cut short-- not to mention the dark circles under his eyes that started off as the first of many red flags.

He hasn't even stood up since he first sat down in his seat at the ass crack of dawn, and it was now-- you peered over his shoulder at the microscopic clock at the bottom corner of his tablet screen --just after noon. Keiji scrolled to the next page using the fancy little stylus that came with the tablet, the bane of both yours and Keiji's existence.

You frowned. He obviously needed a break, yet he wasn't accepting one. The mountain of Shonen nonsense he had yet to proof-read said otherwise, kept him on a leash like the pompous owner to a rambunctious canine.

"Okay, no," you moved to stand at the side of his chair, putting the plate down on his desk with a hint of your emotion, "no."

Keiji had only reacted when the force of the plate jolted the entire desk, causing him to make a bigger error than the one he was just trying to fix. After he pushed a tiny undo button with the end of his stylus, he finally looked away from that fucking tablet. Even if there was an icy glare in his eye, it got him to focus on something other than his work for the first time in hours.

"What." His tone proved how irritated he was. That one word was spoken not like a question, but like a demand, expressing how much he wanted you to say what you needed to say and let him get back to work.

"You need a break."

"I'm fine, thank you." Keiji's response was immediate, his entire being heavy with passive aggression.

"'Kaashi," you never referred to him with his last name. The venom in his eyes settled in the slightest, as if he were having a mental battle with the work that possessed him and slowly starting to win it. "Take a break."

Keiji turned back to face his tablet, staring at the detail that you stopped him from fixing, contemplating. After a literal minute, he finally responded with exactly what you were expecting; "I can't, darling."

"So work is more important than yourself?" When Keiji didn't answer, that was the final straw, the last piece to the puzzle of Keiji's exhaustion. "Yet you tell me that I should always-"

"You're different. _This_ ," he gestured to the tablet with the stylus that he has yet to put down, "is different. This was all supposed to be done yesterday."

"Can I at least help you relieve some of your stress while you work?" Your question was instinctual, left your mouth before you could even wonder what you would even do to help him.

Taking the opportunity to get back to work, Keiji returned his gaze of aquamarine to that damn tablet, already fixing the error he was torn from. "Elaborate."

Well, shit. You didn't know what you were talking about. While you simply stood there in silence to think of what you were actually going to do, the man kept working, too hypnotized by that tablet to remember that you had yet to give him an answer to his question.

As an idea came to your head, you immediately held onto it. You took a hesitant step closer to his chair and dropped to your knees. "Well," you began, not exactly knowing how to tell Akaashi what your idea of _helping him relieve stress_ was.

Keiji ripped his eyes from the tablet screen and watched you maneuver yourself between the desk and his leg until you were under the table. When your hands found a place on his knees, he jolted from the contact. He knew off the bat what you were talking about, although he didn't say anything.

Having gone at least a week and a half without your intimate touch, Keiji was already starting to feel his blood rush down to his groin, his eyes locked on your fingers as they brushed against his knees and lower thighs. Even if the sweatpants he wore denied direct contact between the two of you, he was still entranced by the siren you were.

Keiji had to force himself to speak. He cleared his throat, but even then, his throat sounded a little dry. "Oh," he paused, beginning to lose the staring contest he held with your hands on his legs, "I, uh, see."

"Well?" You repeated, this time as a question. With the world's smallest nod, he looked back up at the top of the desk.

The hands he was so focused on were slowly moving up his thighs, gentle pressure against the fabric of his sweatpants that made him tense up before your fingertips could reach the waistband. He felt out of place as he stared at his tablet, too focused on your actions to make any sense of the work he was supposed to complete. You weren't even doing anything yet, but he already felt just a little bit better, possibly because his attention was separated from his work for longer than a couple seconds.

When you pulled his sweatpants and boxers down together just enough to free his cock from its fabric prison, he was already half-hard, and you can feel him hardening more as your dominant hand snaked up his thigh to hold his growing cock. He felt you lean closer to the chair, spreading his legs to give you more room to work with. He hissed when you stuck out your tongue and licked him a single time, your tongue against the underside of his cock just below his tip.

The first ounce of contact was what reminded him that he should still be working. The stylus was put back to use as he tried to make himself focus once again, his eyes drilling holes into the words on the screen.

As he was starting to get used to the feeling of your mouth, he was surprisingly able to concentrate. However, whenever you would make contact with the most sensitive areas of his cock, he would have to bite back his groan, press his body back into his chair before he could twitch, and manually refresh his brain as if it were a web browser. Your mouth swallowing around him even held back the unconscious rhythmic tap of his leg that would make said limb ache. Even through the occasional, barely audible sounds from the back of his throat and the tightening grip on his stylus, he was incredibly resilient. His work gave him something to focus on other than the pleasure, and worked he did--exactly the opposite of your intentions.

You decided to take more of him into your mouth than what you were currently letting, hoping to remove his focus from his work. As you gently bobbed your head, you were slowly slipping more of his cock down your throat, centimetre by tantalizing centimetre, making sure not to throw him off too suddenly.

At first, he didn't notice a damn thing, still absorbed by that fucking tablet. He remained unaware until you were just an inch away from swallowing him whole. By then, the immense pleasure grew to be too much for Keiji to ignore. He peered down at you from under the desk, the eye contact alone forcing an exhale from his nostrils.

"Slower," he asked, speaking as if it wasn't what he truly wanted. He probably craved the ethereal feeling he was approaching, but his work tied him down. He wanted to cum, you could tell by the look in his eye alone, but that fucking tablet had brainwashed him. A throaty moan was ripped from him as you swiped your tongue around the head of his cock, your response to his request. He wondered why he even said anything if he knew that you would deny him.

As the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, he forced himself back against his chair, legs tensing, toes curling. When he felt you suck around him rather harshly, he yelped; "Oh _god-_ don't get tighter," something hit the surface of the desk above you, _"fuck."_

You knew exactly what that sound was: he _finally_ put the stylus down--well, he dropped it, actually. His newly freed hand mirrored its twin and clenched into a fist atop the desk, so hard that his knuckles were turning white if they already weren't. So lost in the pleasure, he let himself go, forgetting all about his task at hand.

Before, he was holding himself back, burying his reactions down so he could focus on his job efficiently. With that iron wall broken down, there was nothing stopping him from falling down the rabbit hole you dug for him. His voice picked up, morphing from almost inaudible noises to unchained groans.

Putting that stylus down was probably for the best. If he picked it back up now, he would surely make more errors instead of fixing them.

He looked down at you again, so sensitive that he had to force himself to concentrate on your figure beneath the desk. "Stop- darling, I'll cum if you don't-"

Keiji has always been like this, not one to make a mess, especially on you. As much as he would love to ruin you, to admire how you look with his cum leaving a piebald pattern across your skin of silk, he would hold himself back and find release in a more neat way. Ruining your angelic figure was not something he would find himself doing...

Unless you let him, and let him you did; stopped, you did not.

It didn't take much longer for Keiji to reach the summit atop the mountain of pleasure you had given him. His dominant hand, no longer holding his stylus, flew up to cover his mouth in the failed attempt of blocking out his gasps and moans, his other hand now clawing at the polished surface of his desk.

"Fuck, I'm- god- _fuck!"_ Surprisingly coherent, considering how hard his orgasm was.

Keiji settled back into his office chair as he finally came down from his high. Heavy, rushed pants left his parted lips, his head tilted back, eyes hazy, looking at nothing in particular. Every ounce of movement in your mouth made him jolt in his seat.

Before you could pull away and swallow his load, you felt a hand against the back of your head. He didn't force his cock back down your throat, merely holding you in place, but you could tell from the way his fingernails pricked your scalp how much he wanted to.

"Please, just a little longer, please let me stay inside, darling, _please."_ So much for not wanting to make a mess out of your mouth.

Between breaths of air through your nose, your small, scattered swallows of his seed made him yelp, a sharp noise leaving him every time he felt the gummy walls of your mouth tighten up around him for that split moment. He tore his hand away from your hair to prevent himself from potentially scalping you, now resorting to scratching up the leather of his armrest.

He relished the feeling of your mouth, the thought of his work long gone. The only thing on his mind now was the still feeling of his stress evaporating from his body like a toxic mist. He unknowingly realized now that this was indeed a long-needed break, a factory reset for his brain that had been on auto-pilot for far too long. He felt like he was in a completely different realm, practically falling asleep right where he sat.

Harshly dragged from his daze, Keiji just about shrieked when he felt you begin to pull away. His scrambled brain failed to keep his instinct from controlling his hand, which held your head still a second time. You could feel him quickly hardening once again.

"Please," he whined, _"please."_

As much as your jaw desired a break, you remained determined to give Akaashi one of his own. A single lazy swirl of your tongue made his trembling hand lose more of its resistance, forcing his cock all the way down your throat just like before. The feeling of being completely sheathed inside you was definitely welcomed, because that alone made Keiji's back begin to arch off of the chair. It made the tears in your eyes worthwhile, getting to hear the untamed sounds of the man before you.

It was obvious that his body screamed for a second orgasm, but the hand at the back of your head refused to let you back away. His instincts left you no choice but to swallow down a breath before you got to sucking, the walls of your mouth tightening around him just like before, when his coherency led him to a short babble. Once again, this made him speak mere nonsense, only now he spat out a sea of slurred speech;

 _"Oh god, fucking, fuuhhh-"_ and that was all he said before his words melted together into gibberish and sounds of sin.

Thankfully, the harsh suction made him pull back on your hair in the slightest, just enough to give you more room to work with. Pushing through the ache of your jaw, you were beginning to bob your head as much as you could until Keiji got the message _(or let his hormones run rampant)_ and moved his hand with you. What started out as him lazily working with your movements quickly shifted into him moving you, although he managed to muster up at least an ounce of self control and wasn't as rough as you knew he could be.

Every time he hit the back of your throat, his legs would twitch in some way or another, whether attempting to close in on you or spread more open for you. He would occasionally buck his hips in an instinctual hope of somehow winding up deeper inside. The back of his head could have been glued to his headrest and neither of you would tell, his eyes appearing to be painfully shut, tears clinging to the corners.

Keiji, babbling thrice, mindlessly spoke with each thrust, _"Aah god, it's too- too much- too much, haah-"_

Providing Keiji a getaway from his job has long been a success, but now, there wasn't a thought behind his words at all; lights were on and no one was home. It was hard to believe that not too long ago he was concerned about making a mess of your mouth.

A particularly loud sound came from him, a white flag appearing over the horizon, a swan's song. He was so, _so_ close, and that one squeal was all it took to register that he was literal seconds from his second orgasm.

His fingers coiled around locks of your hair, now ruined under his touch. He was attempting to slow himself down, a last ditch effort to compose himself and forbid another release.

Much to his minimal disappointment, you refused to listen to both him and the pain of your jaw. The lack of restraint in his hand was easy to resist. His own struggle was in vain, he and his body knew it, so he gave up within milliseconds. Arching off of his chair and tilting his head so far back he risked breaking off his headrest, he quickly tumbled over that edge again.

 _"Fuckfuckfuck,_ darling please, please I'm cumming-" His rambling, a sea of slurred speech, might have been meant to be a late warning, or to tell you that he had reached that peak. However, you didn't have to be told when the evidence, swift strings of white, shot down your throat. As he repeated that one word, somewhere in the middle, his voice horribly cracked, "cumming, I'm cu-umming, cu-," until he lost all coherency.

If he wasn't convulsing for his first orgasm, he was now. Scratching at his armrest for dear life as he snapped his hips against your skull, fucking your mouth all while he also seemed to move back towards the chair, as if the oversensitivity made him teeter on the choices of rejecting the intense pleasure or letting it envelop him. You weren't able to see, obviously because of your boyfriend burying your face in between his legs, but several tears streamed down his cheeks from the sheer ecstasy, alongside a lone river of saliva down his chin.

At least a minute and a half passed before Keiji melted back into his chair, boneless and exhausted. He opened his eyes and stared at the blurry void of his vision while he focused on his jagged breathing, cycling between blinking several times in a row or not at all.

 _"Ohhhh,_ shit," he hissed as you pulled your head back, the feeling of his softening cock sliding out of your maw enough to make him tense up again, the sudden sound of his nails clawing his leather chair almost startling the both of you. Whatever control he regained of his breath was lost, and now he had to restart the progress of adjusting his lungs to their rightful pace.

Still trying to settle himself, he seemed to stare through you as he tilted his head down to look under the desk. Slowly but surely, his panting was dropping in heaviness and volume.

"Well?" You asked, voice raw.

Your question was answered without words, but instead with a groan as his head fell back against the headrest. As you got your answer, you chuckled, stumbling gracefully out from under his desk like a baby deer, off to grab him a towel and cold rag to clean him up and cool him down.

You collected your supplies before returning to his study. Moving his plate of now room temperature onigiri to the side to make room for what you grabbed, you went to place the damp cloth over his forehead. His eyes were blissfully closed, breathing now steady. You would have compared him to that of an innocent angel if it weren't for the tear tracks down his face that reminded you that he wasn't as much of an angel as you were about to label him as.

He didn't react at all when you pressed the cool rag to his sweaty forehead. Sure enough, your new hypothesis was swiftly solved when you jabbed him a few times with a single finger; he was out like a light. You smiled to yourself. Hopefully, he could actually get decent sleep, even if he passed out in his chair.

Cleaning him up was muscle memory to you, at this point. Making sure his sweatpants were pulled back up and even draping a blanket over his sleeping form, your tending to him was over in mere minutes.

Right before you could slip away to let him sleep among the soft silence of his study, your peripheral vision caught sight of that dreaded tablet atop his desk. Narrowing your eyes and mentally cussing out the inanimate object was for children, so for now, you only glared at it. Its screen had faded to black from being left idle.

Just to be a dear to your darling Keiji _(well, he would most definitely want to get back to work as soon as he would wake)_ , you flipped the device over to fold its leather case closed, then plugged it in to charge while he slept. Picking up the stylus, you were slipping it into its little holder on the side of the case before you were stopped short. Struggling to slide it into its designated compartment, you groaned as you yanked it free to figure out why it could no longer fit the area that was specifically designed to hold it.

Upon inspection, at around the halfway point, the stylus was crooked. You felt your face flush. Keiji had clutched his stylus so hard that he had bent the plastic object with a single hand.

Knowing that it wouldn't fit in the small leather loop, you chose not to tamper with his belongings and resorted to leaving the stylus at the side of the tablet before you took your leave. Keiji would have to deal with the misshapen tool later. For now, you considered Akaashi's slumber and the wounded stylus a victory.


End file.
